Blue on Blue
by lydia.wells.7
Summary: Prompt fill for USS Caryl "Difficult Decisions" Fanfiction/fanart Challenge. Prompt: Carol and Daryl finally have their amazing reunion BUT one of them dies/suffers a loss. Word prompt: Rough WARNING: Character Death


AN: I don't own The Walking Dead or any characters therein. Inspiration taken from "The Story" by Brandi Carlisle and "I'm Already There" by Lonestar.

WARNING: DEATH OF MAJOR CHARACTER CONTAINED HEREIN. YOU ARE FOREWARNED

Carol crouched down behind the fence and looked over at Tyreese. The sound of gunfire still rang in her ears.

"Well, I guess Terminus isn't as safe of a place as we hoped." She glanced down at Judith. "We can't take Judith in there without knowing what all the shooting was about."

Tyreese lowered his head, his weariness written in every line on his face. "No, we can't. What do we do now? We can't keep going. It's going to be dark soon. Should we rest up here and decide what to do in the morning?"

Carol hitched Judith higher on her hip and turned to head back into the cover of the trees, Tyreese following shortly behind her. Something hit her in the shoulder causing her to stumble forward a bit. Bracing Judith with both of her arms, and covering her head with her hand, she managed to gain her balance before turning around to see what caused it.

Tyreese was on his hand and knees in the dirt.

"What happened?"

"Tripped on something, this dirt here is loose, caused my ankle to roll on me."

He got back up on his knees. "Looks like something is sticking out of the dirt here." He started using his hands to sweep away the loose dirt, pulling and tugging on the dark corner of something as he unearthed it, inch by inch. "It's heavy," he breathed, "Whatever it is." He kept at for a minute before he was able to completely bring it up. A dark duffel bag, the original color masked by caked on layers of dust and dirt.

He unzipped the bag and let out a low whistle.

"This is some stash!"

Her breath caught in her throat. "Is that..." she trailed off. Of course it was. The shiny Colt Python gleamed up at her from the top of the bag.

"That's Rick's gun," she uttered, falteringly. "Why would he leave it here? Bury it?" She looked back towards the fence, and then down at Ty.

"They went in there. The gunfire. Ohh!"

Her hand covered her mouth as she exhaled shakily, her oxygen escaping her as she tried to come to grips with the realization that her friends, her family, could be so close, but she wasn't able to get to them.

"We have to go in there. We have to help them," Ty was exclaiming, even as Carol shook her head at him.

"With Judith? We can't just march in guns blazing. We have to think."

She sat down next to Tyreese and put Judith in her lap. They needed to come up with a plan. They needed to strategize. Terminus obviously had a lot of firepower to contend with, and there were only two of them. She looked down at Judith's head. Maybe only one of them. Judith couldn't be taken into the midst of such danger. They needed rest, they needed to scout, there was so much that needed to be done, and yet so little time in which to do it. There was never time anymore. She stood up and dusted off her pants.

"I'm going in there." She cut Ty off with a look when he started to protest.

"I'm the better shot. I'm good with a gun, good with a rifle. I've got my knife. Your arm is still hurt. I'm smaller, less noticeable, and I'll be quieter," she listed off all of the reasons preemptively, why she should be the one to go in and stage a rescue attempt over Tyreese.

"Going in while it's still dark is probably the best option. It's what they did in Woodbury when they rescued Daryl and Merle," she thought aloud, pacing beside Tyreese. She knelt and started loading ammo into some of the guns.

* * *

"What's your plan?" Daryl asked Rick, looking to him, as usual, for some stroke of genius, some hint that he had a grand plan. That they didn't just get themselves trapped with no 'B' plan ready to implement.

Rick looked down, staring a hole in the floor of the boxcar, like he might find the answers written there in the dust and dirt.

"I...I'm not sure. I need time...to think."

"Well, looks like we ain't going anywhere any time soon," piped up Abraham. "Just better hope you can pull some magical rabbit outta your ass so we can bibbity-bobbity-boo ourselves outta here."

There was no way to tell how much time had passed exactly, the light in the boxcar too dim to be able to read the hands on Glenn's watch. Daryl thought it must've been at least a couple of hours, though. It seemed like forever.

He had told Maggie that he lost Beth. She sobbed on Glenn's shoulder for a good long while. They traded stories of what they had encountered since leaving the prison. It didn't take a whole lot of time since it had only been a few days. To Daryl it felt like ages since they had escaped. Eons since he had last laid eyes on Carol. He grimaced. It hurt just to think her name. Couldn't bear to speak it aloud.

The voices of the others faded as he thought back over that winter and spring spent building the prison into a thriving community. Remembered how she grew into her role on the council, a steady, confident voice in the meetings. How she just did what needed to be done, without pomp and circumstance. How she cared for all of the people there, how she took the little ones under her wings, trying to teach them how to survive in this new hell on earth. How she had emotionally bolstered him time and again. Her smile lit up the room, the crinkles in the corner of her eyes making his insides feel like he just shotgunned a glass of whiskey. He never could come to grips with how she made him feel inside, but he kept going back, drawn to her, needing a fix, just like an addict.

The grating sound of metal on metal and footsteps outside the boxcar brought him back from his reverie. He shushed the others so he could hear better. Then he heard the quiet voice.

"Rick? Carl? Daryl? Is there anyone in there? Can you hear me?"

He jumped up and headed to the door, trying to get a glimpse through a crack or something.

"Anyone in there?"

"Shit! Rick, you're not gonna believe this."

He could just make her out in the darkness, rifles slung across her back, pistol in one hand, knife in the other.

"Carol?! We're in here." Daryl tried to keep his voice low so he wouldn't alert any of the guards from Terminus.

She crept up close to the door and filled him in on her plan.

"I can shoot the lock but then they'll know we're here. Be ready to run. Line up by the door. I've got some weapons, but I don't know if there's enough for everyone," she explained as she laid the rifles on the ground, one by one, quietly as possible so they'd be ready to grab up as they exited the car.

Daryl explained to the rest of them and they gathered by the door, ready to get the heck out of dodge. Rick started to question Daryl, but was interrupted, "Now's not the time, man."

He held his breath, waiting. The crack of the gunshot and then the metal grating as the door was slid open, and they were all jumping down, grabbing up what weapons were to be had. Carol handed Rick his Python as he ran by and Daryl was scanning the perimeter, waiting for the rest of Terminus to realize what was going on as they started running for the fence. Carol was leading the way, away from the entrance they had been corralled into, when the first shots rang out. Bullets started flying as they scrambled out of the way. He felt a bullet whistle past his head and hit the brick building. He turned to return fire and he and Rick tried to lay down cover fire for the rest. More and more bullets were hitting the boxcar and the building to his side.

Carol hollered for him and he backed towards her, still firing at the roof when he heard it. The brick was coming loose from the top of the building, pulverized by one too many bullets and losing its tether, the corner of the building giving way.

Directly on top of Carol.

He ran as fast as he could, damn to hell his diminished lung capacity from too many smokes. He reached her just as the avalanche of brick came down, threw her down beneath him and covered his head with his hands, the brunt of the weight falling on his back and legs. It felt like a Mack truck, the force winding him. He felt the last brick hit and he was scrambling to his feet, grabbing at Carol, trying to pull her up and drag her with him.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, just keep going." She clambered up and together they ran after the rest of the crew who were already going over the fence.

Carol could feel the scratches on her palms and the side of her face was pretty tender, the shoulder that hit the concrete was throbbing, and she felt like she had a mouth full of debris, but she would be okay. She looked at Daryl who was breathing heavily trying to keep up with her. He helped boost her over the fence and then managed, though somewhat sloppily, to make it over himself.

"We need to go this way," she announced to the others. "Tyreese was with me. We found a small shelter, he's waiting."

"Tyreese is alive?!" Sasha cried out. Her eyes opened wide, not quite able to grasp the joyous news.

"Yes, but we need to get away from here, quickly." Carol was already marching deeper into the woods, away from the "haven" known as Terminus.

* * *

They reached the shelter, Tyreese running out to meet Sasha, with...was that Judith?! Rick fell to his knees, crying tears of joy, incoherent rambles as Carl ran to get Judith from Tyreese and wrapped her up in his arms, squeezing for all the world like he would never let go of her. Daryl couldn't help but smile, the joy was thick in the air, palpable. He looked at Carol, and could see the tears in her eyes, but it was a mixture of happiness, and something else he couldn't quite put a name to. He caught her attention and they stepped away from the group. She remained quiet, letting the silence hang there between them, until he was comfortable enough to speak his mind.

"What Rick did? It wasn't right.. He didn't have the right. I'm sorry." He paused, shakily inhaling, nibbling the corner of his mouth before continuing. "I'm sorry...sorry I don't know what happened to Lizzie and Mika. When the governor showed up, it all went to hell so quick, I…"

"Stop, Daryl," she interrupted, placing her hand on his arm. "It's okay, you don't need to apologize, it wasn't your responsibility. It wasn't your fault. They were my...my…" she trailed off as the sobs took over.

He wrapped his arms around her, the feeling foreign but right. So right that he didn't even notice the foreignness of it, as all he could think of was holding her, comforting her, doing anything he could think of to get the sobs to cease. They sank to the ground, the scene almost, reminding him fleetingly of a similar circumstance in years past.

"Shh, shh, hey, it's okay. It's okay," he murmured into her hair as he rubbed circles on her back, trying his damnedest to soothe her.

"No, it's not okay," she managed to get out between breaths. "Tyreese got out with the girls. I had come back for them and I saw them escape and I followed them. I caught up to them and we found a house...with a fence...it was nice…" she trailed off for a minute, but he didn't prompt her for more. This time he let the silence linger, continuing to convey his support just by holding her.

"I tried, Daryl. I tried so hard to teach them. All I wanted was for them not to end up like Sophia."

His gut clenched as she spoke the name. The pain spread throughout his body, blossomed into his chest, making it hard to breathe. He squeezed her a little tighter, remembering how he tried so hard, also. Tried to bring that little girl back to her mom. Her mom that loved her and missed her. Lay awake at night crying for her. He never wanted anything as badly as to find that girl and bring her home.

"I tried to teach them all. It didn't matter what I did, though. Lizzie was messed up. I didn't see just how bad off she was until it was too late," she looked up at him then. "She killed Mika. Killed her so she'd turn into a walker."

Daryl started when he heard that. It took a lot to shock him nowadays, but that was surreal.

"She did what?" He couldn't keep the question in, or the surprise out of his voice.

"She killed Mika, sweet little Mika, who wouldn't defend herself. I tried to teach her also, but she was too good, too sweet. Lizzie said she was just about to make Judith turn when we came up on them. Tyreese helped me but we couldn't keep Lizzie around Judith. She couldn't be around people."

She didn't say anymore, but she didn't have to to say it. Daryl knew. He just knew. Carol would protect the group against any threat. Even at her own expense. Nothing he could say would help, so he said nothing. He just held her. He let her cry until he was sure she had cried a creek full of tears before it tapered off and she began to quiet.

He helped her up off the ground where they had been sitting and into one of the rooms where no one had bunked down yet. He made a pallet on the floor and sat down next to her, resting his back against the wall, gingerly. He must've bruised it pretty bad when the brick landed on it. He rolled up his jacket and put it behind him to cushion himself, and motioned for her to join him. She sat down next to him and he adjusted himself so he could put his arm around her as she rested her head on his chest.

The quiet of the night languished around them, blanketing them in its comfort, its peace.

Daryl broke the silence, coughing out, "There's something I need to tell you. This whole thing, well, it's really proved to me that time is precious. We never know what is going to happen, when it may happen. World turned to shit in a couple of weeks. Prison went to hell in less than a week. We just don't have time, you know?"

She looked up at him, nodding as he coughed out the last question. She waited as he took a deep breath and then looked her straight in the eyes.

"I love you. For a while now, I've been wanting to tell you but I didn't know how. Didn't seem like it was ever the right time."

She put her hand on his face, cupping his cheek.

"There's never a 'right' time, and there are never the 'right' words, there's just saying it, whatever it is that you feel, because if you feel it, you need to say it. We may not get tomorrow, you know? We've been so lucky, we keep coming back to one another but one of these days, those nine lives are going to run out."

She focused her eyes on his, blue meeting blue, and punctuated each word with a kiss to his lips, "I. Love. You. Daryl."

He rested his forehead against hers, felt the tears upon her cheeks and the lines on her face and he knew.

He knew each story that was written in those lines. Each hardship, each tragedy, each joy, and each triumph were spelled out in the map of her skin, so even the least observant man, and he wasn't the least observant, could read the history.

He stayed like that until she broke contact, saying they needed to get some rest. There weren't many hours left in the night and he would need to hunt.

He coughed as he scooted on down, trying to get comfortable next to her. He guessed his age and the hard life at the end of the world were starting to take their toll on him. His back and chest ached something fierce and he was having trouble getting settled. He tossed and he turned a bit, but not too much, trying not to disturb Carol, who he could tell was already asleep by her even breathing and soft snores.

He was having an increasingly difficult time breathing so he finally gave up on sleep and sat back up, and lord, but he almost didn't make it. When did old age start feeling like you'd been trampled by a herd of walkers? His ribs ached to the touch, and he was having more and more trouble catching his breath. Even sitting up, the pressure he felt in his chest didn't ease.

He unbuttoned his shirt one button at a time, fingers fumbling with the damned small buttons. The bluish-purple bruises blooming over his chest and torso, and the blood pooling beneath his skin. That was something he'd never seen before, which was saying something, considering what he'd suffered from his old man and even occasional fights with Merle. Coupled with his inability to properly get oxygen into his lungs, he was pretty sure this wasn't good.

No, this was bad. This was something he wasn't walking away from, or escaping.

He rifled around on the floor and in his bag, trying to find his gun when he came across Beth's diary. Looking over at Carol, he ripped a page from the book and started scratching away in the dim light.

* * *

He nudged her and waited as she sleepily cracked her eyes open.

"I love you." His voice cracked, roughly, as he used as much force as he could to get the words out.

She grasped his hand in hers and held it to her chest.

"I love you, too."

He left his hand in hers until he felt it relax and he knew she was sleeping soundly again. He slid the paper under her arm and he rose to his feet, bracing himself on the wall, using its steady support until he could gather his own strength. He crept along the wall, one hand grasping her pistol, the other keeping himself upright. He could feel all the imperfections, the bumps, the cracks of the wall under his fingertips, as his attentions splintered off in every direction. He gasped, trying to fill his lungs with as much oxygen as possible, the endeavor exhausting him.

He was so tired. So weary. So heavy with the knowledge of what he was doing. He could never leave it up to her, or Rick, or any of them. "Only a Dixon can kill a Dixon." She had suffered so much already, with Lizzie, with Mika. He didn't want her remember the moment, have it seared in her conscience, the way Merle was seared in his. The way he knew she remembered Sophia.

He finally stumbled out of the door, onto the ground, the pressure in his chest building to an almost unbearable peak. He lie there, looking at the stars, his vision blurring. It felt like an elephant was sitting on his chest, each and every breath more and more painful, and difficult to inhale or exhale. He closed his eyes and saw hers. Clear blue orbs, glittering with unshed tears when she grieved, sparkling with mirth when she laughed, bottomless as the ocean when she was deep in thought. Full of comprehension and compassion, always.

Struggling, gasping, he raised the pistol.

* * *

The cracking sound of a single shot startled her awake, her senses tingling, her adrenaline instantly arousing every nerve in her body. She frantically looked around, not seeing Daryl anywhere in the room. As she scrambled to her feet she heard voices, yelling, then crying, and then quiet. She looked up as the light from the doorway was blocked, the blackness enveloping her in its shadow. Michonne stood there.

"It's Daryl," was all she needed to say.

There weren't any other words. No words to say. No words to comfort. There was just emptiness.

Carol sat there in silence. She brought her hand to her face, feeling his warmth as he came to her and told her he loved her. Remembering his touch, his calloused hands, his gentle manner, his quiet devotion. She felt it. Most of all she felt its absence. It was then she noticed the paper on the floor. She picked it up and her hand trembled as she recognized his scratchy writing. Her eyes clouded quickly with tears spilling out, dotting the paper so she couldn't even read the words. She wiped her face, trying to focus her eyes, and read the words, each line a stab to her heart, a stab that she felt throughout her entire body. Not just her body...her soul.

Remember this

Take a look around

I'm the sunshine in your hair

I'm the shadow on the ground

I'm the whisper in the wind

I'm the beat in your heart

I'm the moonlight shining down

I'm the whisper in the wind

And I'll be there til the end

Can you feel the love that we share

I'm already there

I'll be with you, even when I'm not.

You were wrong. I liked you first.

Daryl


End file.
